The Prince and His Guard
by JTheGreat88
Summary: There are more to Ling and Lanfan than a handsome face and a white mask. This is a look into the daily lives of, well, the prince and his guard. Spoilers, just so you know. Rated T for paranoia.
1. Lanfan Gets Tickled Pink

Author's Note: This story takes place after Lanfan loses her arm, if Ling had put his search for immortality on hold to accompany her to Xing.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Fullmetal Alchemist_. Seriously. So stop asking if you can borrow it!

The Prince and His Guard

Chapter One: Lanfan Gets Tickled Pink

"Young Master, may I ask why you are accompanying me?"

Ling Yao, 12th Prince of Xing, snorted. "You know I hate that 'Young Master' crap."

Lanfan shook her head disapprovingly. "It is unbecoming of a prince to use such vulgar language, Young Master," She said, having no regard for his comment. "Will you answer my previous question?"

"Hm?" He was distracted, lost in his own whimsical thoughts as his horse's hooves clopped across the dirt road.

"Why have you insisted on taking Grandfather's place in escorting me to Xing to get automail?" She repeated.

"It is my fault you have only one arm, so it is also my duty to make sure the lost arm is replaced," he said, suddenly switching into the eloquent tongue he used only in the palace and only to his father.

"You don't need to go through such trivial pursuits for the wellbeing of your guard, Young Master. But thank you."

Ling remembered when they had departed Central. Lanfan couldn't do anything on her own. She even needed Winry's assistance with tying her hair into its trademark bun. Ed had given her a rib-squeezing hug that made Lanfan blush, much to Ling's annoyance. But he didn't let it get to him. He was aware that Ed and his fellow Amestrian militants were all in on some conspiracy act to make Lanfan the next Empress Yao. And as amusing the thought of Lanfan fighting hand-to-hand combat in an imperial gown was, Ling didn't think that Lanfan would take well to the many concubines the emperor was expected to have.

The horses had reached a bump in the road, and Lanfan winced, trying to disguise it as a muffled sneeze.

Ling didn't hide the concern in his voice. With all his easygoingness, sometimes it was hard to see through the prince's narrowed eyes and lazy smile, but she could see he was totally serious. "Should we rest, Lanfan?"

She cursed under her breath. "I'm fine, but if you are tired, we can stop at the next town."

Ling hated it when he caused Lanfan pain, which seemed to be happening a lot recently. "I've decided I'm tired. I demand we stop."

Lanfan could see through his ruse, but she couldn't defy the orders of her master. She sighed. "All right then."

They rode through the forest for a little while, finally seeing the budding lights of the town. They dismounted at a stable by an inn.

She got off, stumbling a little from the imbalance in her limbs. The chi ran through her body lopsidedly, and she had difficulty controlling her motions. Ling jumped off and held her only arm, steadying her. He still remembered her silence as King Bradley had lopped off her other arm, and the seemingly never-ending silence that followed.

She bowed. "Thank you, Young Master." Her voice was much more subdued, her obsidian eyes tired.

Ling's eyebrow shot up in confusion she didn't blush, like she had when Ed squeezed her. But what was he to expect? For the entirety of his affiliation with Lanfan, she was stoic and formal. He'd never even seen her laugh.

Then, the idiot prince had an idea.

"Hey, Lanfan, are you ticklish?"

The guard stopped in her tracks. "No, Young Master."

Ling grinned mischievously, an expression Lanfan both enjoyed and detested. "Are you lying to your prince?"

"No one has ever tried, because those who were ever curious knew I could probably rupture a vital nerve in a second," she retorted.

He nodded thoughtfully. "True, true. You would never attack your prince, would you, Lanfan?"

Lanfan edged away from her employer, who seemed to be creeping closer with that same grin plastered on his face. Needless to say, this was one of those times when she detested it.

Before she could protest or even bat an eyelash, Ling tackled her, putting his theory into effect.

"Ling!" She cried, muffling her giggles in her sleeve. After a few minutes of cruel and unusual torture on her part, she finally came to her senses and shoved Ling off of her with her good arm. She got up herself, brushing the straw off of her uniform. Her cheeks were tinged with a shade similar to carnation, but more from exhaustion than from embarrassment.

"You called me 'Ling'," he commented triumphantly, his grin replaced with a smirk.

"I apologize for the informality, Young Master," she muttered, more involved in the issue of her hair, which had come out of the bun and hung to her shoulders in a jet-black mess. She smoothed it out a bit, frowning.

"Sorry about your hair. Want me to help?" Ling's sisters had been vehemently protective of their hair, and had made sure he was on the other end of a round-house kick whenever he had bumped into one of them in the corridors, knocking the carefully-styled locks out of place. Luckily, they had mellowed with age, and he had learned to avoid them at all costs.

She shook her head. "The Young Master need not fuss with such a subject." A few strands fell into her face, which she blew away with a huff.

"I demand you let me help you," He said, nodding to himself as if he were just realizing he was a prince.

She sighed yet again. "If I may say so, the Young Master is becoming somewhat of a spoiled brat."

He laughed. "It's just a perk of the job, Lanfan. So let me help you."

He stood a head over his guard, making it easier to handle her hair. He tied it into a simple ponytail at the top of her head, leaving the bangs as they were.

She stared at herself in the reflection of one of her kunai blades. "It's seems…loose."

The prince gasped in mock distress. "Are you saying I'll never be able to live out my dream to be imperial hairdresser?"

She chuckled, which was the closest to a laugh that Lanfan ever gave. "You will only achieve the disgrace that comes with being imperial hairdresser's assistant, Young Master."

He chuckled. "Where are we off to next, Lanfan, with your magical bag of sarcastic remarks and witty banter?"

She was still testing out her new hairstyle, shaking her head around comically. "Wherever you'd like, Young Master. We can retire for the night, if you'd like."

He thought for a moment. "I've decided I'd like to go to a bar!"

Lanfan blanched. Amestrian bars were a guard's worst nightmare. Too crowded, full of drunken men willing to pick a fight with anything that moves. The exits were always blocked with said overly-confrontational males. Mere thoughts of the place gave her shudders.

With no reply, Ling nodded affirmatively. "Good then. Off we go!" He patted his horse and left the stable.

Lanfan buried her face in her hands. It was early, only about seven at night. Nothing could go wrong, right?

Author's Note: Like it? Hate it? Would you date it? I'd marry it, personally. But please review. All compliments, constructive criticisms, and absurdly long flames are appreciated.


	2. Declarations of Love and Sleepy Smiles

Author's Note: I didn't get that many reviews, but my urge to write overcame my thirst for feedback, so here you go!

Chapter Two: Declarations of Love and Sleepy Smiles

After checking in, Lanfan and Ling had set off for a bar near the inn. Ling sat down in front of the counter, slamming down some of their Amestrian dollars in exchange for a drink. Lanfan hesitated near the entrance. The crammed building was too-brightly lit, like one of Winry's diabetes-inducing smiles. The entire room reeked of the smell of alcohol. She rubbed her temples, wondering if there was such a thing as being secondhand-drunk. Wanting to get the entire thing over with, she headed towards the counter, but was blocked by a man. She didn't like the look of him. He was too grisly, too dishonorable.

He stepped out of her way, but he flashed a slimy smile as she passed. He sat down and continued to laugh with his friends, all of whom didn't look all that honorable either.

"Amestrian beer is so yummy," Ling mused after he drained his mug. Lanfan silently slipped a few of her own bills to the bartender, silently begging him to make it a weak drink.

"Of course it is, Young Master," she agreed absentmindedly, like a kindergarten teacher who'd been shown one too many drawings of a red flower and had been asked how pretty it looked.

"Lanfan, you need to loosen up," he said, grinning goofily. The alcohol had already kicked in. In Xing, drinks and spirits were rather benign, and women and children only drank the wine on special occasions.

"I am very loose, just look at my hair," she deadpanned.

"You know, Lanfan," he said, giggling after every word, "I love you very much."

Lanfan flushed a deep red, almost resembling the crimson stripes that were painted on her guard's mask.

She dismissed the issue. Ling was obviously inebriated, either that or this was some sort of alcohol-induced hallucination she was having. She glanced down at the small glass of wine she'd been drinking, pushing it away.

"Young Master, I think I may be having a headache. Could you please look after yourself while I take a walk outside?"

Ling slackly wrapped an arm around her. "Anything for you, my love."

She lightly picked up Ling's hand, setting it down on the counter. Hopping off the barstool, she winded her way around all of the, what she called "Major Armstrongs", and shut the door behind her, breathing in the cool air of the Amestrian night. A dark shroud of night had been dropped over the small village, but with the calm also came the fear, in the form of the man in the bar following her down the walkway.

"What's a pretty young thing like you doing out here?" He slurred, grinning as though the two were best friends. Lanfan scowled. Usually her blades of various size and sharpness would scare away the bar creatures, but Amestrian bars held a strict "No Weapons" rule, so all she had on her were two twin kunai strapped to her ankles.

"Please get out of the way," she said, deliberately turning to show him her stump of an arm.

The drunkard twitched. She was sure he had double vision. "A cripple? I guess I can be into that kind of thing."

Her eyes narrowed. "Leave please." She enunciated each word with a hint of contempt.

He laughed, a sound that sent chills of disgust down her spine. "What? Do you need to get back to your little squinty-eyed boyfriend?"

Her jaw clenched and unclenched, trying to restrain her urge to strangle him. "I am not in a romantic relationship with the Young Master. I am his bodyguard."

She regretted saying it, because it just made him laugh even more. "Squinty looks like he can take care of himself. Why don't you spend some time with us?"

He reached out a dirt-caked hand and stroked her cheek. She cringed away. She would have grabbed his wrist, but that would've meant more touching.

She stepped backwards, he tried to touch her face, and it would start again. Step, try, step, try…. And out of the blue, it appeared that they were in a trash-ridden alley.

She tensed her muscles, preparing to run up the kick off the wall and around the man. She was being rather generous, really; kicking the wall instead of his face.

"It is extremely dishonorable to treat a woman that way," a voice rang out. Behind the muscular man stood the equally-muscular Ling, all goofiness gone from his expression.

"Squinty?" The man mumbled, turning to look at the prince.

Lanfan took this as an opportunity to deviate from her plan, actually kicking him in the cranial area. But then again, this was also generous; kicking his head instead of his crotch.

Lanfan stepped over the knocked-out drunkard, bowing so low the tips of her bangs touched the toes of her sandals. "A thousand apologies, Young Master. I should've been more careful."

He nodded. "That's right."

Suddenly, Lanfan stared right at the prince, an action that she would punish herself for later. "Why?"

Ling's dark brows furrowed. "Why what?"

"You know that I am a competent martial artist. Why would you go to such trouble for nothing?"

Then, the prince laughed. "I told you silly. I love you!"

The blush returned. "Excuse me?"

"I love every single citizen of Xing, even the rice-pickers and the street children. If there was an opportunity to help one of them in any way, especially one I knew well, then I would take it in a heartbeat." He seemed satisfied with his newfound philosophy, and although the feelings Ling had expressed to her in the bar seemed far from platonic, she didn't say anything.

The blush receded, mostly by force. "Ah. Well, thank you, Young Master." She bowed again.

He laughed, but with her rather than at her, even though she wasn't laughing at all. "No matter. Let's go back to the inn."

The odd pair traipsed back to the inn, and Ling was snoring in the bed the second his head hit the pillow.

Lanfan curled up in the armchair. It would've been foolish to rent more than one room, for they were only staying for a night, and she could keep a better eye on the prince when they were in the same room. Light poured from the window, filtered through the thin curtains. Lanfan shifted so that it was constantly in her eyes, to keep her awake. It just ended up making her sleepier. Her eyelids drooped, and then both the prince and his guard were fast asleep.

***

Ling woke early, his head pounding with hangover. He slipped a leaf of Xingese healing mint under his tongue, and the pain subsided, and him sighing in relief.

He glanced over to the window. Lanfan was still curled up in the faded red armchair, her head lolling to the side. The moonlight cast from the window seemed to make her skin glow.

He hopped off the bed, landing silently as his martial arts mentor had taught him. Also silently, he scooped up Lanfan and laid her down on the bed, surprised that she wasn't a light sleeper.

But, in fact, she was entirely alert, and lightly smiling the entire time.

Author's Note: This was just a little play (ahem, parody) of those LingFan fanfics where Ling tells Lanfan he loves her without any previous character development. Always good for headdesking. Anyway, please review. If you're not a member, review! If you are, review! If you just come here for the lemons and yaoi, then why are you reading this fic!? But you can review too!


	3. The Mustang Skirt Campaign

Author's Note: Thanks to WrathLover, I don't know why you love wrath so much, but you're the only one that seems to be reviewing, and I appreciate that. Not that there's only one person reviewing. Just that YOU'RE the one reviewing. So yeah.

Chapter Three: The Mustang Skirt Campaign

Lanfan awoke.

Ling faintly smiled as he polished his cutlass. Lanfan always looked so _girly_ when she woke up. She'd yawn like a kitten, her surprisingly long lashes fluttering.

"Good morning," he said, chuckling as her already-large eyes widened comically at the sight of the clock.

"I slept _that _long!?" She leaped from the bed to bow in apology. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have fallen asleep anyhow. And in your _bed_ for heaven's sakes!"

He laughed in reply. "It's fine. You're actually kind of cute when you sleep, really."

She calmed down, her face becoming its usual mask. Since she had vowed to her grandfather not to wear her guard's mask until she was fit to truly guard again, it was even more difficult for her to keep her emotions in check. "Well, we'd better set off now, since we're already behind."

The twosome had a light breakfast and checked out, abandoning their horses for the train station heading for Port Town.

"Two one-way tickets to Port Town," Ling said, slipping the cash under the ticket window, exchanging them for the tickets.

"You and your girlfriend going moving to the better view, huh?" The young man in the booth said, counting up the bills and giving adequate change back. His copper hair fell in waves to the nape of his neck, and his blue eyes were lively and cheerful.

"Nah, we're travelling overseas for her arm," Ling said, rubbing the back of his head and gesturing to Lanfan.

"And I'm not his girlfriend," she felt the need to add.

"Really? Well, just know you always have Robbie here at the train station to show you a good time," the young man told Lanfan, winking.

Lanfan tried to smile politely, but it came out more as a forced grimace. He was attractive, but a little too straightforward for her tastes. "Err…. I'll keep that in mind."

Ling laughed as they departed the ticket booth. "That guy was flirting with you!"

Lanfan muttered something under her breath about unprofessionalism. She just wanted to get the automail procedure over and done with. Since one arm was missing, she couldn't wear her full body armor, which didn't only mean that some of her most vital organs went unprotected, but that males more than ever were noticing her supple curves.

In Xing, flirting was rare. Courtship only ensued to lead to marriage, which was only used to ensure the health of the clan by childbirth.

"If you'll allow me to excuse myself, Ed told me to call him when I got to the train station," she said offhandedly, pulling out a coin.

"Of course. I can handle myself, you know," he said, gesturing to his cutlass as he tried to keep a smile on his face. Was there something going on between his guard and the pipsqueak that he didn't know? Of course not. It was obvious to everyone that he was fiercely protective of Winry, to the point of infatuation. But it was hard for him to convince himself this as he saw Lanfan blush inside the phone booth.

"Hey Lanfan!" Ed yelled over the phone. Lanfan could imagine his big grin. "How's it going?"

"Very well," she said.

"Wait, one sec," Ed said. "Mustang wants to talk to you!"

"Hi Colonel Mustang," Lanfan said, slightly confused.

"That's Future Fuhrer Colonel Mustang," the Flame Alchemist said. "But to you, it's Roy."

"Okay…." She wasn't exactly sure where this conversation was going.

"You know, you should wear more feminine clothing sometimes. You have a very nice body," he said.

Lanfan's face reddened. A loud clang was heard on the other end, and the Colonel's voice was replaced with Hawkeye's. "Sorry Lanfan. That was just Mustang's 'Skirts for Everyone' campaign."

Lanfan smiled. Riza Hawkeye was one of the few down in Central she had grown close to. They had much in common. Both were obligated to protect older, stubborn men, but loved their jobs nonetheless.

"It's no problem, Riza," she said. Riza was the only military official besides Ed, who didn't really count as one anyway, that she called by first name.

"Well, call us again in Port Town, if you get the chance," Hawkeye said. "Tell Ling we say hi, and give him a hug for me."

Lanfan nodded, hanging up. Riza had acted somewhat as a mother figure to Ling, as she had been to Mustang..

Lanfan made her way back to her employer. "What did Ed—" He was interrupted with Lanfan wrapping her arms around him.

"Sorry," she stammered. "That was from Lieutenant Hawkeye, as all."

He grinned. "Tell her I did this." He lifted her one foot off the ground in embrace, something Ed could never do.

"I used my last coin," she said light-headedly. "Oh, we're going to miss our train!"

Then, the prince and his guard boarded the train, heading off for a new town and new adventures.

Author's Note: LOL, I love Mustang's whimsy. But anyway, review please! Faving me is flattering and all, but I love the feedback. Even if you're from a different country, 'cause I have Google Translator!


	4. Ed Senses a Disturbance

Authror's Note: I've decided I'll deviate from the LingFan arc for now, dabbling in some RoyAi. Just to be fair, I'll add some EdWin later. Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter Four: Ed Senses a Disturbance

Riza silently hung the phone up, grinning apologetically at the colonel. After his little "skirt" comment she'd hit him head-on with the butt of her gun. She sent a secretary to get some ice from the kitchen.

"Sorry Sir, but you kind of deserved it," she said.

He sulkily rubbed the bump on his head. His perfect features had been a point of pride. "Yeah, whatever. Lanfan would never take me seriously."

Suddenly, Ed stood from the seat where'd he'd been lounging after Mustang had taken the phone from him. His eyes narrowed, almost imitating those of the Xingese prince. "I sense a disturbance in the universe. Someone somewhere is insulting my height!"

Mustang rolled his eyes, going back to skimming over the latest information on Fuhrer Bradley. "Aren't we all, all the time?"

Ed stuck his tongue out at the higher-up. "It isn't my fault you're in love with First Lieutenant Hawkeye and too scared to tell her!"

Then, the office went deathly silent. The secretary who had just returned dropped the bag of ice and ran, afraid of another one of Mustang's famous blow-ups.

Riza, who had been inadvertently pushed into one of the most awkward moments of her career, nervously glanced in between her superior and her subordinate. The other militants took this as a good time to take their lunch breaks, and were gone in a flash of flapping blue uniforms and fearful expressions.

The colonel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ed…. Get out."

Ed jumped at the chance, still set on getting to the bottom of the disturbance.

Riza picked up the bag of ice, tossing it to her supervisor. "That was quite… something, Sir."

He shook his head, and Riza could practically smell singeing hair and smoke. "Sometimes I wonder why we hired him in the first place."

Riza smiled, pitying the embarrassment her supervisor was going through. "Sir, would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?"

He stared at her strangely, his grimace slowly becoming a sly grin. "I'd love to, First Lieutenant."

Author's Note: In case you couldn't tell, Ed's "disturbance" was Ling calling him a pipsqueak in the previous chapter. LOL, I love Ed, but I digress. Please, please, PLEASE review! Or... or... or... I'll kill Lanfan! Yes! Muahahaha! But I'll kill Ling too, just for good measure! So yeah. Review!


	5. Conversing With the Semiconscious

Author's Note: Sorry for the short chapters, but my stories always come out better quality when they're like one-shots. Here's a little more LingFan, 'cause I know you love them.

Chapter Five: Conversing With the Semiconscious

"Reaching Port Town, one mile!"

Ling woke with a start. He'd been sleeping in the carriage with his head pillowed in Lanfan's lap. The guard had also succumbed the overwhelming sleepiness, the side of her face pressed against the frigid window.

"Wake up Lanfan," he murmured playfully, poking the side of her face. She was exhausted from the many days they'd spent awake riding through the forest, and the short nap they'd had the other night did little to placate that.

She batted his hand away. "Nyah…. Ling…."

He smiled, amused at his tired servant. He vaguely wondered if she was aware she was speaking to him. "Yes, Lanfan?"

"Hm…." Her face scrunched up, in that kitten-esque way that it did.

He laughed. "You are so adorable, Lanfan."

She smiled softly, her hair falling in her face. "You are so stubborn, Prince…."

Ling grinned. Maybe he should tell her about this. Nah. The prince sat up, and the semiconscious bodyguard seemed to notice, her hand prodding around for his face.

He thought for a moment. He should milk this moment for its worth. "Lanfan, what do you think of the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

She blushed, and Ling's faint frown deepened. "He's a hothead…. Acts far too impulsively in battle…. He loves the girl with the long blonde hair… what was her name? Winry."

His frown was now a straight-out scowl. "But do you love him?"

Lanfan's blushed darkened, along with his expression. "He is far too short. And, and I may think I love someone else."

The frown vanished, and before he could ask who the love in question was, the train screeched to a stop, effectively waking the bodyguard.

She smoothed some stray hairs back into place, suspicious of Ling's knowing expression. "Young Master, did something happen while I was asleep?"

He shook his head, silently chuckling. "Nothing. By the way, thanks for calling me Ling."

Author's Note: Sorry if Lanfan came off OOC in this one, but I just had to indulge in the fluff. So, review pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, please!


	6. Spelling Songs are the Best

Author's Note: Thanks for all of the feedback, I really appreciate it. So for all of you reviewers here is some LingFan fluff! Kind of!

Chapter Six: Spelling Songs are the Best

Port Town was one of the countries Lanfan actually liked. It wasn't overrun with turmoil or ridden with scandalous affairs and lies and secrets like Central. Because it was a transit town, many different cultural demographics lived in Port Town, setting up shops to intrigue and suck the dollars out of gullible tourists. And, oddly enough, everyone got along. In Lanfan's life, differences clashing only brought hurt and misunderstanding. The Amestrians and the Ishlabans, for example. But here, everything was just, peaceful.

It was only natural that Lanfan's and Ling's arrival utterly screwed that.

"Get on the ground!" A woman shouted, pulling out twin rifles. A black bandana was tied around the lower half of her face, but the undoing of her coat revealed that it was laced with weapons, ranging from blades to smoke bombs to guns. Her auburn hair flew free, her green eyes feral. The entire train station erupted in screams. The resident Xingese immigrants pulled out kunai, but were so out of practice they couldn't get a hit, and were too protective of their children and spouses to get any closer.

Ling grinned at Lanfan. "Let me handle this. I demand you stay here." Unsheathing his cutlass, he sprinted to the scene, swiftly dodging the bullet shots that burrowed their way into the stone walls. Children started to cry, and their mothers shot fierce looks to the bandit, suggesting that if any of them knew martial arts, she would be dead in seconds.

"Stupid boy!" She spat, firing off the last of the magazines from both of her guns. Before she could pull out a weapon, Ling had apprehended her, cutlass pressed to her throat. He wasn't very much in the mood for fighting, abandoning his usually extremely melodramatic combat style.

The crowd burst into cheers. Mothers cried with joy and embraced their children silently. A young woman approached Ling, the look of pure and unbridled admiration clear on her face. She looked Xingese, perhaps an immigrant.

"That was amazing," she whispered in broken Xingese. She laughed uncomfortably, switching back to Amestrian. "I'm sorry. I was born and raised here, so I only fluently understand Xingese."

Ling grinned charmingly at the girl, and Lanfan's hand clenched and unclenched the kunai she was holding. The girl was obviously attractive. Her eastern features were complimented by bright blue Amestrian eyes. And sure, she had seen Ling flirt with tons of the servant girls before, but that was when she was wearing her mask, and she could flush infuriatingly all she'd like.

She headed to the courtyard leading into the station, climbing up the tree with ease. She had always climbed trees when she was young. It made it less difficult for her to find the incredibly sneaky prince.

After chatting a bit with the girl, who he had found out to be a worker in the teashop named Jiao, Ling had gone looking for Lanfan, who, on seeing her, felt a bit troubled. Lanfan only hid in a tree when she felt distant, cold. And Ling had thought they had been getting along so well.

Lanfan leapt from the tree silently. Her face was blank, mimicking the mask she once wore over it. "Young Master?"

Ling crossed his arms, pouting the way he did to get his mother to extend his bedtime when he was younger. "Is something wrong?"

Lanfan was impassive. "I don't sense any trouble, Young Master."

Ling started to grow concerned. "Is there something wrong with _you_, I meant."

As the concern in Ling grew, so did the annoyance in Lanfan. "As I have said before, I am fine."

Ling stopped her in her tracks. "Please smile, then."

Lanfan paused. The corners of her mouth twitched ever-so slightly, as if her face couldn't remember how to do such a mundane act of expressing happiness. "That is not part of a guard's duty, Young Master." She internally nodded, pleased with herself. What was she thinking all those days anyway? Indulging in such frivolities. With Grandfather Fu around she would've certainly earned her a slap, or at worst, additions to the already large red scars on her back and torso. Guard clans were not, as to say, soft on punishment.

"Your duty is to make sure that I am content and safe. Now, are you going to lighten up or am I going to have to resort to more… drastic measures?"

His charge faltered. Usually the prince wasn't this blunt, even when he was teasing. "Like what, Young Master?"

Ling pondered for a moment. "Hm…. I could 'accidently' fall off a cliff and tell them you pushed me…."

Lanfan choked a bit on her own saliva. "Excuse me!?" She sputtered.

Ling just kept prattling off. "Maybe I could poison myself and put your fingerprints on the bottle. I could also tell Ed you called him so short that people at a salad bar mistake him for the shrimp…."

Back in Central, Ed dropped the stack of books he'd been skimming through in the State Library. "_Another_ disturbance in the universe! People are getting pretty unoriginal with these short jokes…."

Ling continued on. "Or… I could kiss you."

Lanfan, who had just regained her composure, choked yet again. "Like I said before, _excuse me_!?"

He shrugged. "I've been known to be quite to lady charmer. I could spare one kiss for my favorite female guard." He had doubts about this. Lanfan was a very devout believer in Xingese standards, and although the rumors of the Prince Yao having scandalous relations with a guard may be delicious gossip for the old women who play mahjong in the courtyard, but Lanfan would receive more than a whipping if news like that got out.

Lanfan rolled her eyes. He had to be joking. "Let me think about it. No thanks." Slinging her knapsack on, she looked to her employer questioningly. "Where shall we go next, Young Master?"

"Hm…. How about a tree?" Ling swooped up to Lanfan, brushing his lips against her cheek. "Because you and me are K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" He said, collapsing in laughter.

Ed, having finally collected up all of his books, dropped them again, turning to Alphonse, shocked. "I've sensed something, different. A _good_ disturbance! I _was_ right!" Not choosing to explain his cryptic message to Al, Ed started doing a victory lap around the library.

In Port Town, Lanfan recoiled from Ling, her face stony. "Please stop fooling around, Young Master. There are people around."

Ling looked crestfallen. Usually he had girls in giggling fits by now. "Lanfan?"

Lanfan pulled the scarf around her neck up, covering her face. "May we just go now, Young Master?"

Ling moped along the cobblestone streets of Port Town, his guard in tow.

And discreetly, Lanfan touched the place where Ling had kissed her, berating herself for enjoying such a thing.

Author's Note: LOL, okay, not all that fluffy. But Ed was pretty awesome in this one. I have a darker-and-edgier chapter ready to upload, once I get enough feedback to feel bad that I'm not uploading. Thanks for reading!

Poll: I was just wondering, what theme do you like best? Please answer by reviewing. The choices are: "Jealous Ling", "Jealous Lanfan", "Mutual Fluff", "LingFan Angst", or "Other". If "Other", please specify. Oh, and Royai and EdWin count as "Other", not "Mutual Fluff".


	7. Havoc Mails His Mother

Author's Note: Thanks for all of the reviews, everyone. *Swallows* I said darker-and-edgier, here's darker-and-edgier.

Chapter Seven: Havoc Mails His Mother

Back, back in Central, the Prince's other guard was trapped in a futile battle.

Fu combined every part of his training, soaring from building to building in what would be such a magnificent manner, if he hadn't been spraying blood with every jump. But, perhaps, that made it all the more awe-inspiring.

He clapped a hand to his arm, wincing from under his snowy mustache. He almost felt sorry for slapping his granddaughter for being caught in the same position he was currently. He silently apologized, continuing on.

Running past Central lines, he set off a smoke bomb, disorienting the sentries. All he needed was time.

He could practically sense Wrath's footsteps as he mildly strolled through the forest, swords in both hands.

A small stream winded through the dense wood, its sparkle almost giving him hope. But he was past hope. Running down the stream for a while, he turned around and walked against the flow of the current, finding a sunken rock shelter.

Ripping a swatch of fabric from his light grey underclothes, he uncapped the pen he kept along with his kunai and grenades, chuckling a bit. He knew the pen would come in handy someday. Breaking the pen in half, he stuck a finger in the oozing ink, beginning to write.

Finishing, and rather proud of the way his calligraphy had come out, he used more fabric to tie up his wound. He could probably last longer.

Donning a different mask, one made to disguise his already prominent Yin-Yang masquerade, he ran around the forest, sneaking his way back into Central.

Mustang and Havoc, who had just gotten off work early to go on a reluctant double-date with Hawkeye and Sciezka, froze at the sight of the Xingese man in the alley. Fu quickly whispered instructions to Mustang, a pleading look in his eye. Tucking the swatch in the colonel's back pocket, Fu was gone before anyone could notice his presence.

"So," Mustang said, urging Havoc to play it cool. "How's that mother of yours?"

Havoc shook his head, receiving the cloth from Mustang. He dabbed it at his eyes a bit, making sure not to get ash from his cigarette on the important note. "I just don't know. Maybe I should send her _a letter_. I do have something at home I've been meaning to ship."

Mustang nodded. "Mail systems in your town are shoddy. I know a better address that can forward it." Mustang could feel the eyes of Bradley's men scrutinizing the two. He quickly passed on Fu's words to the second lieutenant. "Well, I have to go. Riza wants me to dress nice tonight and my tie is filthy." Just like Fu, he'd left in a flash.

Havoc stared at the fabric, unsure of what to make of the Xingese characters. Instead, he returned home, carefully copying the lettering onto a piece of paper and mailing it, not to his mother, but to Xing via Mustang's private mailing line.

Meanwhile, Fu had run out of time.

While Ed and the others though Fu was a rather bitter character, he had been reckless in his youth, getting into far too many exciting and dangerous, but mostly dangerous, adventures. It was only when he married that he changed. He became more responsible, having less dangerous, but still pretty exciting, adventures with his wife at his side. But after all of this, he had never thought of what his last words would be.

"Actions speak louder than words, right?" he croaked, the blood-loss making him feel light-headed.

So backed against a wall in an alley in Central in Amestris, the old man charged at Wrath, bringing up his kunai with lightning speed and stabbing him right in the eye.

Fu lightly smiled, surprised at the sword that stuck through his own chest. "Goodbye, Young Master. Protect my granddaughter, like I was never able to." He'd accomplished something. He'd hit the homunculus in a vital area, so it would take a little longer for him to regenerate. And afterwards, his sight might not be what it used to. Bradley was old, and the Philosopher's Stone in him was tarnished and broken.

And so, the prince's guard died, with nobody but his worst enemy to keep him company.

Author's Note: Nuuuuuuuu! I'm sorry, I had to do it so it would keep up with canon. But don't worry, 'cause a fluffier chapter's coming your way. And stay tuned, because Fu's role in the story isn't over yet!


	8. Falling From Grace

Author's Note: This is a longer chapter, for you. I'm sorry if my writing's not what it used to be. Fu's death is just really getting me down.

Chapter Eight: Falling From Grace

"Xingese herbs here! Low price!"

Lanfan and Ling took in the sights and sounds and smells of the Port Town Shopping District, eyes wary. Shops lined the seemingly endless street, which was bustling with people from all walks of life.

"Beautiful silk dresses from all the way across the desert!"

"Forget Xing! These spices from Ishbal are top-quality!"

Lanfan was on-edge. It had all the noise, nauseating brightness, and odd smells of the bar, but with _foreigners_. She wiped her forehead, silently begging for the cool interior of her mask. Through the riffraff, she was still pretty surprised that Ling hadn't yet tried to evade her watchful eye. He must have taken pity on her missing arm.

"Ooh, Lanfan look!" Ling called, steering her towards a door draped with richly colored fabrics. "A fortune teller!"

Lanfan coughed upon entering the shop, pulling her scarf up to cover her nose and mouth. The entire place reeked of incense and herbs, vaguely reminding her of her dreaded visits to the matchmaker back when she was just a young teen.

"Come in, come in," a woman called from inside the tent of layered curtains. "We'd love to tell you your fate."

Ling and Lanfan pulled the main curtain away, stepping into the chamber. The two plopped down on the pillows set up on the ground in place of chairs. In front of them was a short table, and behind that was the fortune teller.

Her hair flowed in luxurious waves in front of her face, in a manner resembling that of the late Lust. She was obviously from Ishbal, but her eyes were an odd shade of violet as opposed to red. She would have been beautiful, except for the fact that above the two of her eyes sat a third, blinking rapidly.

"Welcome," she said, her accent heavy. "To Madam Estella's Fortune Telling. We will see what you cannot."

Ling was speechless, still gawking at the third eye that sat in the center of her forehead. Lanfan shook her head, hoping he wouldn't try something stupid like attempting to touch it.

"Why do you say 'we'?" She said rubbing her stump of an arm with her other hand. The scent was so strong it irritated the soft skin around her wound.

"The eye and I are not one," Estella replied, her standard eyes blinking sleepily.

"If you are not one, how did you gain such a thing? I apologize for being intrusive," Ling said, appearing to be in a staring contest with the third eye. The weird thing was, that he was losing.

"I was, I am, an alchemist," she began. "My boyfriend had died, so I started studying the ungodly science, hearing rumors that it could bring back the dead. I was banished from my village, but I persisted on. After the attempt, I had thought I had succeeded."

She sucked in a breath for dramatic reasons. "I was wrong. I was taken to The Gate, where they had been contemplating what to take from me. Instead, they decided to experiment. They knew I was always scared of the future, so they gave me the curse of having to see it all the time, with this third eye, that sees into The Gate and beyond."

She smiled weakly. "I've learned to turn my curse into profit. Would you like your fortune told?"

Lanfan was surprised by this new development. She'd thought the woman was going to be a phony, dabbling in star-gazing and tealeaves. But she didn't doubt the Estella's story at all.

Ling grinned. "This will be fun, Lanfan! I will pay for us to both get out fortunes told."

Lanfan frowned. "Young Master, that is not necessary…."

Ling frowned, mimicking Lanfan. "I insist." He retrieved money from Lanfan, they'd both agreed Lanfan was the best to keep track of the funds, and handed it to Estella.

"Ladies first, I presume?" She said. Before Lanfan could refuse, the third eye started to glow a bright pink, the shafts of light omitted dancing across the curtains.

Estella's mouth opened, but it was not her exotic tone of voice that emerged. "You will fall from grace, your eyes wide open. Fall, fall, fall. But not for the man who sees what none can. For the bravest of them all, for him you will fall."

Lanfan blinked. Fall from grace? Xing was a purely Agnostic country, only creating shrines to pay homage to famous ancestors and emperors.

Ling was more confused about the falling part. Lanfan, fall for a man? She was hardly the hopeless romantic. But more so than that, he was wondering about who this brave man could be. Possibly Fullmetal. But in Ling's eyes, the golden-haired alchemist only did the things he did because he had nothing to lose.

The eye continued to flash and glow. Estella was still in The Gate's realm. Ling assumed it was his turn, and sat up to listen. "The prince, the prince, the prince, the prince. We laugh at you, the prince, the prince. A war will commence, not between lands but between clans. The one, who prevails, will lead them all. One will become four, but you will be with one, and only one."

Ling frowned. A war? Xing was a peaceful country. He'd wished he'd gone first. Maybe he would've gotten a less cryptic message that way.

Estella was back to herself again, rubbing her droopy eyes. "Thank you for selecting Madam Estella's for all of your divination-related needs." She said it as though she had said it many times before.

The pair excused themselves, glad to be out of the place. Lanfan was convinced the strong stench of the room had been giving _her_ visions!

Ling sighed, his eyes squinting of their own accord. "Would you like to go to the shore?"

The best thing about Port Town was well, the port part. Lanfan and Ling were sure of this as they sat top a rocky shore side cliff. It was almost nighttime, and they'd have to leave the following morning. The breeze was soft and fluttery. Lanfan let her hair out of the makeshift knot, letting the draft ruffle it.

Ling wasn't staring at the sea, but at her. He'd never noticed how pretty she was before. The only other time he'd ever seen her with her hair down and neat, as opposed to the "tickling incident", was when she was recovering from the battle with wrath. And even then, it was hardly the time to focus on her beauty when it was his fault she'd never be whole again. In fact, he was thinking the exact same thing now.

Lanfan had closed her eyes, suddenly becoming very sleepy. Then, a rougher wind came up and slammed into her back. Her limbs were warm and sleepy as well, and didn't get a chance to react to the sudden blast of air. And Lanfan was falling, falling.

Just like Estella had said.

Looking back up to the cliffs, she saw the wooden sign that seemed to be mocking her. "Welcome to Grace Point".

Before she could send a wire line back up to the surface, she crashed through the waves, feeling the icy water sinking through her clothes. Vaguely, she tried to remember how to swim. Xingese warriors were taught in the arts of land combat. So to say it simply, if you dropped one into a lake, they'd sink like a rock.

She flailed around, somehow making her way to a rock jetty, clambering onto a flattish boulder.

"Young Master is going to yell at me…." She whimpered, shivering. Well, at least she was alert now. Any normal person probably would've gone into shock, but bodyguards were good with these kinds of things.

"Hey, you!" A young man called. He seemed to be fishing by the shore. Dropping his rod, he waded through the frigid sea to her. His dark hair was long and covered his eyes, making him slightly resemble a sheepdog.

Scooping her up, he waded back to the sand. He seemed skinny, his face tanned and weather-beaten. He grinned offhandedly, reminding her of Ling.

"So how did you get down here?"

She sighed. "I fell…."

He nodded. "I would've hoped you didn't jump."

She bowed. "Thank you for helping me."

He grinned again. "Anytime."

Changing the subject, she gestured to the rod. "Why are you fishing at night?"

"Why do you only have one arm? Don't answer. The fish are always out, no matter what time of day. I like night, it's peaceful. Plus, if I hadn't been out here fishing then I would've never been able to help you."

"What is your name?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Now, you'd better get going. I imagine a pretty girl like you has got a boyfriend to run back to."

She shook her head. "Goodbye. I will repay my debt to you someday."

She gave the boy an awkwardly chaste hug, running back to get with her master.

She realized how harsh the breeze could be. It seeped through her clothing, freezing her already damp skin. Soon she had to stop, lest she get sick.

She sat on a bench, at the base of the long winding road leading back to Grace Point. Soon enough, the prince had come.

"I'm sorry Young Master," she whispered.

He didn't seem to hear her, pulling off his jacket and wrapping it around her.

"Young Master…."

He shook his head. "No need to refuse. If I don't give you my jacket, you might very well get pneumonia, and I might get assassinated while you're out sick."

She pulled the jacket around her tighter. She couldn't argue with that logic. She discreetly sniffed it. It smelled like… well… Ling. Like salt and jasmine and so many wonderful things all mixed together. She faintly smiled.

"You can swim?" He asked.

She shook her head. "A nice fisherman was out by the shore and came to help me."

Ling blinked. Since she had fallen from Grace Point, maybe this had been the man she was going to fall for, like in the vision. "Hm."

Lanfan shook her head, cursing herself for staring. Since she was wearing his jacket, the upper-half of his body was bare, bandages covering his torso.

Checking into an inn, Lanfan was the one asleep first, crashed out on an armchair the way she had been before. Ling smiled, returning to his respective sleeping spot.

"Goodnight, my sweet guard."

Author's Note: Well that was a LITTLE less OOC. Just so you know, the fisherman used to be a State Alchemist, but he fell off Grace Point while on vacation, and had lost his memory of the military of anything about it. He makes a living fishing. And for those of you that think this story's declining in quality, just wait for the aforementioned war between the clans. You won't be sorry. Please review!


	9. Ling's Dating Troubles

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Ed says hi, and that he senses your laughter at his miniscule height. Oh, and now he's getting really mad 'cause he can't hit girls. Sorry Ed.

Chapter Nine: Ling's Dating Troubles

Lanfan waved meekly from the deck of the ship, down below, the fisherman grinned up at her, his arm wound around a blushing Jiao.

"They're good for each other," Ling commented from behind her.

She nodded, trying to tie her hair back up into its standard bun, settling for the ponytail that Ling hat put it in before. Remembering what the Fullmetal had told her, she cursed under her breath. "I've forgotten to call Edward."

He shrugged. "No need. The pipsqueak will understand."

She sighed. "I'm not so sure."

Lings eyes flashed open, a seldom occasion. His royal blue irises glowed, suspicious. "What is it about you and Fullmetal anyway?"

She stiffened, surprised. "Is the Young Master angry?"

Narrowing his eyes comically yet again, he tried to grin, but his teeth just clenched. "No, not at all. I'm just questioning your relations with the alchemist, as all."

This time, it was she who shrugged. "I… respect him. He was one of the very few who could ever defeat me in battle."

He rubbed his chin in thought. "Ah."

"Young Master, do you not like my speaking with Fullmetal?"

He shook his head. "Nah, it's okay. I'm just a little… possessive."

She looked up from the patterns she was drawing on the dust-caked deck with her feet. "Of what?"

He grinned. "Of you."

Despite herself, Lanfan blushed. "Oh." Grunting uncomfortably, she retreated to the roof of the cabin, crouching as if ready to strike. "If the Young Master doesn't mind, I think it'd be best if I watch over you from up here."

Pulling himself over the wall, he sat down next to her. "I do mind."

"Oh… well. Then I apologize."

He laughed nostalgically. "Remember when we were kids? You didn't even care for honorifics, and you spoke with contractions all the time."

She nodded, ashamed.

He looked at her. "I miss that, you know."

It was summertime, a little after the time Lanfan had been assigned to Ling as his guard. The young prince was concentrating especially hard on something.

"Ling—I mean—Young Master, you look troubled."

He sighed, a little crease forming between his inwardly-arched eyebrows. "The festival is coming up soon…."

"Yes?"

"And I do not have a date. All of the older boys get to bring dates."

Lanfan's face stained pink, a usually occurrence back then. "Oh. Well I'm sure there are many girls are willing to go with you. But it is standard that the boy asks the girl, so…."

He looked up from where he'd been pacing along the courtyard. "Lanfan, come down please."

Straightening her oversized mask, she slid silently down the drunk and onto the soft moss below. "What does the prince request of his guard?"

He unfastened her mask, the simply-decorated disguise falling to the ground. "Would you like to go with me to the solstice festival with me tonight?"

With no mask to cover her pale face, she pulled up her scarf to veil her carnation cheeks. "I didn't mean me! You have to go with a princess or something. But not an actual princess, 'cause that would be your half sister, and gross."

He frowned, tears forming in his squinted eyes. "You don't want to go with me…?"

Lanfan panicked. If her master cried she'd surely be slapped. "No! I mean, if would be an honor to go, but—"

Before she could refuse, Ling buried her in a bear hug. "Yay! Thank you Lanfan! We'll have the greatest time! And someday, we'll get married and we'll go on fun dates all the time!"

Lanfan smiled at her master's enthusiasm, dropping her scarf. "Whatever you say, Ling."

Ling finished recollecting the moment, his eyes dreamy.

Lanfan laughed, temporarily forgetting her emotionless demeanor. "I can't believe you actually believed we could get married someday."

He laughed as well. "I can't believe you called me 'Ling' back then."

She sighed. "I was such a fool back then. I had once been musing to Grandfather about the prospect of us getting married back then. That earned me two whippings."

Ling stopped laughing. "He hurt you?"

She nodded. "It's common practice. And I deserved it, anyway. It's a guard's job to protect their master, not to have girlish fantasies while the master goes off and drowns in the bathtub."

Ling feigned fury, his eyes widening for effect. "That was one time! And the water was deep!"

Lanfan muffled amused chuckles into her sleeve, repeating the words she had said so many years ago. "Whatever you say, Ling."

Author's Note: This is my take on those LingFan childhood fics. I hope you liked it, 'cause I did. Please review, because I have lots of schoolwork (and an addiction to endless clicking around on TvTropes), so your reviews are the only things that keep me going. So yeah. Review, 'cause Ed can sense it when you don't!


	10. Lanfan Samples Automail

Author's Note: Thanks for all of the reviews! This chapter's a little slow, but I needed some filler time for the story to seem complete. Enjoy!

Chapter Ten: Lanfan Samples Automail

After a couple of weeks, the boat had docked in Xing.

Ling was met with suspicious stares and meek greetings. Lanfan was given no acknowledgment at all, until she reached Yao Manor.

Her mother emerged from the guard's quarters, her eyes widening at the sight of her disfigured daughter. "Lanfan!" She buried her in a hug, tears springing to her eyes. "Child…."

Lanfan's mother was fairly beautiful; her looks aging like fine wine. Her hair was tied in a tight bun, like her daughter's, and was streaked with gray. Wiping her hands on her apron, she turned to bow at the prince.

"Lanfan…. Your grandfather…." Swallowing hard, she started to weep. "He has passed."

Lanfan was shocked at this news. Her eyes widened, her eyebrows disappearing behind her scraggly bangs. "What!?"

Instead of scolding her informal language, she simply sighed. "He was killed by a creature in Amestris. In the letter, I think he called it a… homunculus."

Ling patted the retired guard's shoulder. "I am sorry for your loss, madam."

Lanfan's mother looked up at Ling in surprise. "Thank you, Great Prince!" Turning to Lanfan, she dabbed at her tears with a corner of a handkerchief she had pulled from the pocket of her apron. "We will discuss funeral matters later, Child. Now, we must tend to that arm!"

Ling spoke for her. "She had lost it in a battle with the creature that killed your father-in-law. I will be taking her to the imperial blacksmith so that she can have an artificial arm fixed for her."

She nodded. "While you are recovering, together we can plan the funeral, and wedding."

Ling looked at the woman, curious. "Excuse me, did you say 'wedding'?"

Lanfan stepped in front of her mother. "A contract was set up so that in the event of my grandfather's debt, I'd be married off to a guard from another clan."

Ling nodded, frowning slightly. "Oh. So, let's get going then!"

After a bath and meal for both of them, Ling hauled Lanfan off by her only arm, commandeering a carriage and setting off down the rickety dirt road to the imperial palace.

"Married, huh?" Ling asked, breaking the palpable silence.

She nodded. "I've never met him before. I was instructed to wait outside while the contract was made."

"Why do you have to get married anyway?"

She sighed, anxious to get the automail surgery. "My clan is diminishing in number. With the death of my grandfather, it only emphasizes the need for more heirs to be… er …conceived."

Ling flushed. The thought of Lanfan being _touched_ by another man was angering. "Oh."

Lanfan could sense her master's distress. "Oh look, we're here."

The imperial palace was a sight to behold. Thick, bright red walls rose up around the palace grounds. Each shrub was tended to carefully, as if a single branch out of place would ruin the entire image. Servant women roamed the palace, their faces painted beautifully in broad, sweeping strokes of black and pink. Lanfan felt a pang of annoyance when Ling's narrow eyes lingered on the one with the exceptionally large bust.

"Who are you?" A sentry asked at the gate, more to Lanfan than to Ling.

Ling stepped in front of Lanfan yet again, as if she couldn't speak for herself. "I am Prince Ling Yao, 12th Son of the Emperor. My companion is injured and we demand to be taken to the imperial blacksmith."

The sentry, realizing the visitor's status, rushed to bow. "I hope the prince and his consort are not displeased by our accommodations. Please, come in."

Lanfan coughed. Consort? She was definitely _not_ married to the prince, and the sentry should've realized that from her clothing. But, she guessed, it wouldn't have been wise to argue with the prince.

Before she could correct the obviously rookie gatekeeper, Ling had taken her off again, steering her across the gaping palace courtyard.

Ling laughed as the two made the long journey down the staircases to the blacksmith's quarters. "That guy thought we were married!"

Lanfan buried her face in her scarf. "I apologize…."

Ling clapped her on the back. "Don't sweat it too much. It would be an honor to be married to such a pretty girl. But of course, you are already taken, you sly fox."

Lanfan just buried her face deeper. "Young Master, please be quiet."

Ling, who was still laughing, at the fact that he got away with calling a woman "fox" for the first time and didn't get hit in the face. Knocking twice on the large ornate door, the two patiently waited for the blacksmith.

A slot in the door slid open, snake-like eyes peering through. "Yes?"

Ling repeated his request to the blacksmith.

The blacksmith laughed, his voice leathery. "I do not know this 'automail' of which you speak, Young Prince."

Ling, not intimidated by the experienced crafter, stood on his tiptoes to look the blacksmith right in the eye. "I happen to know that you dabble in prosthetics. I know an automail mechanic back west, and," he pulled a drawstring bag from his pocket jangling around its contents, "I have brought with me some special automail parts, premium in her country."

The blacksmith's eyes widened to a comical degree. "I can make an exception for such a clever prince."

The door swung open, and being dwarfed by its massive frame was an old man. Although his face was weather-beaten, his hands were nimble, his chest muscular through his low-cut uniform.

"I am Long Zhou. This is my grandniece Qiaolian," he said, gesturing to a girl, who was perched on a stool near the forge. Her face was covered in soot, but she didn't seem to mind. Under the light of the crackling fire, she was assembling what seemed to be a metal doll.

"Hi," Qiaolian muttered, fiddling with the doll's arms.

Lanfan liked the girl. Absorbed in her own work, she didn't give a care to the world happening around her. She used to be like that once, when she was a little girl throwing kunai in the courtyard.

Long Zhou hobbled over to the other side of the room, where he slid open a part of the floor, revealing a compartment filled with arms, legs, even torsos. "I've crafted a few, but it will take a while to get them ready for use, as well as prepping this dirt-ridden area for surgery. You may wait here. Converse with my grandniece. In the meantime, may I see those parts?"

Retrieving the silk bag from Ling, the blacksmith was left to his own devices. Ling and Lanfan pulled up identical stools to sit by the forge.

Qiaolian leaned forward on the stool, her bangs creating jagged shadows on her face. "I heard that back west there is a boy who has both an arm _and_ a leg of prosthetics!"

Ling nodded. "Ah, Fullmetal. We met up with him in Central. He bought me lunch, even."

The girl turned to Lanfan, her eyes growing with interest. "You knew him? What was he like? I bet he was handsome. What kind of automail did he have?"

Lanfan blushed, half from the heat and half from the attention. "Well, yes, I knew him. He was impulsive and had the shortest… er… temper in Amestris. As for his automail, I'm not exactly sure. You'd have to ask him mechanic."

"Was he handsome?"

Lanfan, not having the heart to disappoint the infatuated girl or make an honest assessment of her comrade's appearance, only said, "Well, I suppose he was." Thinking of his golden hair and arrogant smile, she did suppose that Fullmetal was better than average looking, to say the least.

Ling felt the need to add, "But he's very short for his age." He inwardly grinned. Somewhere in Amestris, the alchemist was probably spewing smoke.

Qiaolian shrugged. "So am I. I'm 13." Both visitors were surprised, to say the least. She looked barely 11.

Long Zhou clapped his hands and the fire subsided. "Now, would you like a more feminine automail, or a guard's armor?" He held up two options. One was dainty, the fingers delicate like the ones on Lanfan's flesh arm. The other was well… terrifying. Spikes protruded from the knuckles, and had masculine, wiry hands.

"Well, you are getting married…." Ling pressed.

Long Zhou grinned, the sides of his eyes crinkling. "Every Xingese woman has a sharp edge, as does this automail." Pressing a button, a large blade swung from the light, dainty prosthetic.

Lanfan smiled. It had surprises, that automail did. Just like her. "I will choose the more willowy feature."

Long Zhou nodded. "And if you do not like it, we can always upgrade the one you are getting today. Now, do you have any experience with pain?"

Author's Note: There you have it. Qiaolian's a favorite character of mine, although she, like most minor female characters and real-life fangirls in general, was seduced by the Elric Charm. Poor Al never gets any of the love. Review if you love Al! Please, of course.


	11. We Need Some Training Dummy Rights

Author's Note: I write this to you as my mom watches _Avatar_ in the living room. I thought I'd do a more angsty chapter, just to balance it out with Ed's disturbances. Angst is my forte, so enjoy!

Chapter Eleven

That night, Lanfan cried.

Not because of the ever-approaching surgery dated for the next morning. She had lopped off the arm in the first place, so she could probably endure some more pain.

It had fully dawned on her, the striking reality of her grandfather's death. If she hadn't been so incompetent, she and Ling would both be back in Amestris, the latter of the two sweeping in shirtless and bloodstained to save the elder guard. She inwardly hit herself for thinking such explicit thoughts.

Usually, she'd be pretty good with traumatic events like this. She had built an emotional barrier over the years of her training; the last time she'd shed tears was when all of the older guard boys had pulled her hair and locked her in the weapons shed. But it had only taken one fissure in the heavily built dam to open the floodgates, and that fissure was Ling. Ling and his goofiness, his utter sweetness, and his… shirtlessness. One more inward hit for Lanfan.

Ling was still snoring away, his face half-buried in the pillow. Lanfan stole a glance at him, wiping her eyes and slinking out of the guestroom in the blacksmith's quarters.

Because Xing was a combat nation, it wasn't hard for Lanfan to find a training courtyard in the palace. The surprising thing was that it was deserted. The training dummy still hung on a post, its tattered limbs swaying in the wind. A frown was stitched on its face. Or at least, Lanfan thought it was a frown. It was hard to tell, because the embroidery had become so deformed.

Lanfan's eyes narrowed, imagining the grimace to be that of one Fuhrer Bradley. She armed herself with a kunai, aiming it at where the dummy's heart would be. Metal met fabric, the cotton starting to pour out of the gash.

The tears came again. She glared at the cotton-filled sack. "This is your fault. All of this!"

She pulled out another dagger, charging into the poor dummy. She plunged the knife right into his eye, pulling it down. Now, the mannequin was barely recognizable; just a pile of fluff and textile. The bottom-half of his face was still intact, the scowl still haphazardly sewn on.

Even though the dummy was no more, Lanfan continued to stab at the remains. "Your fault! Your fault!"

After a while, her arm had gotten tired. She collapsed onto the cold stone floor, gathering the vestiges in her arm. "My fault…. My fault…."

More tears came. This time, she didn't fight them.

She could hear the light tapping of her master running to her. Ling froze when he saw his guard, his stronghold, broken and weeping on the floor of the courtyard. "Lanfan!"

She hid her face in her scarf, ashamed of herself. "My fault…."

He slung an arm around her, pulling her up so that he could see her face. When he pulled the scarf away, she just buried her face in her hands. "What is your fault?"

She recoiled when her employer lifted up her small frame, balancing her on his lap. "Young Master… I am sorry. I am so, so, so sorry…."

He ignored the slight twist each apology put in his stomach. "What's wrong?"

When in doubt, bow. "I am sorry Young Master. I was just… uh… training."

Standing up, the clean-cut guard turned on her heel and strode back into the palace. Ling frowned, tracing patterns in the puddles of tears that had been left in the crevices of the ground.

He stood up, staring blankly at the empty spot where Lanfan had once stood. The thing that was most troubling, was that he might've lost her forever.

"Ah well," Ling said to the air, making a silent prayer for the mutilated dummy. "A prince is never one to give up on the one he cares about."

Author's Note: This was partly inspired by a fanfic called "Ten Lessons", except Ling has a sliver of hope in my version. I hoped you liked it! Please review!


	12. The Blind Boy

Author's Note: I'm back! This story's really lagging on, so I'm hoping to include the big finish soon.

Chapter Twelve: The Blind Boy

Long Zhou, having needed to travel to the Mechanic's District for extra parts, left Lanfan and Ling on their own for the time being. They considered their plans on the carriage.

"You can have a day off," Ling said. "Enjoy yourself."

Lanfan looked desperate. "Please, Young Master. Don't do this!"

He laughed. "Maybe go shopping. Relax, Lanfan, and that's an order."

Lanfan buried her face in her hands yet again, muttering both curses and prayers.

The carriage stopped. Ling tipped the driver and sent him on his way Lanfan retreated to the guard's quarters, looking forlorn.

After an hour of wandering around the village, Ling realized he was truly bored. Just to his luck, he spotted Lanfan inside the teashop.

Ling scratched his head. She looked… different. Her hair was down, halfway pinned with an ornate clip. Even though she was clad in peasant's garb, the fabric was no-doubt formal, embroidered with soft cherry blossoms. Despite himself, he blushed.

Ling burst into the shop. "Hi Lanfan!"

Lanfan's mother was there also, as was a young man that Ling didn't recognize. The boy had shorter hair than what was expected of a Xingese man. The tidy dark locks reached his shoulders and weren't restricted by a hair-tie.

They all stood to bow. Lanfan opened her mouth to speak, but was stopped by her mother, who shook her head disapprovingly. "Young Master, I apologize, but Lanfan cannot attend to your service at the moment. She is meeting with her betrothed."

The boy stood up. He was skinny, lithe. "I am Sou Li."

Lanfan's mother beamed. "He is the heir to a quite prestigious family of scholars."

Lanfan stared at Ling helplessly. This must have been the reason she did not want to have a day off. It was Xingese custom for a woman not to speak out of turn; the rule did not apply to her mother, who was a widow.

Ling was intrigued by Sou's eyes. They were milky, colorless. "Sou, are you blind?"

He lowered his head in a half-bow. "Yes, Young Prince. Ever since I was born. That is why I was named as such."

Ling nodded, not really understanding. Lanfan were to fall for either a man who could either see more or one who was brave. Sou didn't really seem to fit either description. He possessed a more benign, submissive demeanor.

Ling supposed that he should be happy for Lanfan. But something about Sou really just annoyed him. "Sou, are you a good fighter?"

Sou shrugged, his gaze darting to Lanfan ever-so often. "I suppose…."

Ling grinned, but not in his usually carefree way. It was more threatening, like a shark's. "I challenge you to a duel."

Sou's eyes widened. "For what?"

Ling laughed. "Nothing. It's just that I am so out of practice." This was a lie. Ling had no problem with going for long periods of time without fighting. Plus, he'd gotten into that spat in Port Town.

Sou frowned. He had a boyish air about him. Ling however, was a man. "If you say so…."

Lanfan's mother laughed as if the whole thing amused her. It would make good gossip later. "May my daughter and watch, Young Master?"

Ling smiled, back to his happy-go-lucky ways. "Of course! The more the merrier!"

And so, the female guard, the woman, the prince, and the blind boy set off for Yao Manor, which had very large training grounds.

Ling and Sou stood on opposite sides of the courtyard. Ling unsheathed his cutlass. It gleamed, ready for a fight.

"Call it, Lanfan," Ling ordered.

Lanfan sighed. The whole thing was a farce to her. She just shook her head and muttered, "Ready, go!"

Ling ran towards the boy, his form simply a blur of yellow and white. Sou tensed. Before Ling could raise his sword, Sou ran up the wall behind him, dodging the stabs that Ling aimed at him. He pulled out some kunai, throwing one of them at Ling, who effectively blocked it with his sword. It buried itself into the floorboard.

Ling laughed. "Do you think some silly blades can stop me?" He charged again, aiming a kick at the boy's head. He ducked, swinging a kick at Ling, who jumped. Sou threw another kunai. It missed again.

This game of cat and mouse went on and on, until Sou paused. He placed his palm flat on a pentagram he'd drawn earlier. Ling hadn't noticed.

Flashing shards of red light sparked onto the kunai. Sou grinned. "You say that silly blades can't stop you, huh?"

Wood sprang from the spots in the ground where the kunai were, shooting towards Ling. They wound their way around the prince until he was trapped in a floorboard cocoon.

"You win…." Ling muttered. "How did you do that?"

Sou smiled ruefully, patting his handiwork. "When you can't read, you find yourself playing chess a lot. I'm a bit of a strategist."

"A bit?" Lanfan said, joining the two on the courtyard. "That was amazing!"

Ling growled something, slicing through his encasement with his sword. "I suppose it is. I am out of practice, I guess." He bowed to the blind boy.

Sou bowed in return. "You'd better practice then, for the big tournament."

Ling paused. "What big tournament?"

Sou nodded to himself. "Didn't you hear? The emperor's dying, so he's organized a championship for all of his heirs to compete in, the one who wins will be the next ruler of Xing!"

Author's Note: In case you hadn't caught it, "Sou Li" means "Blind and Clever". Good describer for him, I think. Please review!


	13. Kunai Means I Love You in Xingese

Author's Note: I'm back! My computer is experiencing some difficulty with a malware (stupid Antispyware Soft), so I might not update a lot. So you guys better enjoy this one!

Chapter Thirteen: Kunai Means "I Love You" in Xingese

Much to Lanfan's relief, Ling let her resume her duties as guard, leaving her very disgruntled mother to plan the wedding colors on her own.

"So…." Ling began, dipping a pinky in his tea. They had returned to the tea shop, where just a day ago Ling had challenged Sou to a duel. Sou's expert alkahestry had gotten the best of Ling, much to his discontent. "What's up with this Sou guy?"

Lanfan smiled. "He's quite smart. His touch is so sensitive he can read the text of thick ink on paper."

Ling scowled yet again. Lanfan bit her lip. When he was like this, he looked so much like his father, the emperor. "Do you love him?"

Lanfan suddenly became very interested in a little ant, which was skittering across the floorboard. It was using a twig as a bridge across the cracks. Finally, she turned to look at her master. "I don't know. I know he does not love me, though. He's nice enough. He tells me that he'll always be faithful, because that's what good husbands do."

Ling swallowed, thinking again of the many concubines he'd have as emperor. If it came to it, he'd at least make sure to remember all of their names.

Lanfan continued. "But, he seems to be very infatuated with one of your half-sisters, a princess of course. Ming Na, I think her name is. He tutors her. He says she has a beautiful singing voice, the most beautiful he's ever heard."

Ling froze, studying his companion. She didn't look jealous. Her pale face was the epitome of stoic, with just a hint of melancholy around her dark eyes. Being Ling, he stated the obvious. "You look sad."

Lanfan shrugged, playing with the hem of her skirt. Even though her mother had let her resume working, she had insisted that her daughter wear her feminine clothing. There were about six kunai strapped to her legs, in addition to the compact smoke bombs she'd hidden in her bosom and the poison needles that held her hair partially up. "It's nothing, Young Master. Just thinking. I will have to spend the rest of my life with a man that doesn't love me. I'm even two years his senior. My mother says that it's an honor that we are allying with a scholarly clan like the Li. But she's just being generous. In honesty, Sou was probably the only suitor that would take me, because of my coarse personality and disability."

Ling wrapped an arm around her, making her turn a bright shade of pink. "You are far too hard on yourself. Men are merely intimidated by you. But once they get to know you, they discover your shyness, your beauty…." He laughed. "That Sou is a lucky man."

Lanfan's breathing hitched. No one except her mother had called her beautiful before. She folded her hands in her lap, struggling to keep the tears in. These days she'd spent with her mother had softened her, weakened her. "Do you really mean that, Young Master?" Her voice was just a decibel above a whisper.

He nodded, grinning like a child. "If I could choose any girl in Xing, no, any girl in the world to be my wife, I'd choose you. Because I know that you'd keep me in line."

"You can't possibly mean that…."

Before Ling could offer another wholehearted reply, Lanfan stood up to leave.

"I'm sorry Young Master, but I must retire early. Please forgive my incompetence."

Her sandals clacked against the floorboards as she fled the shop. She took exceptional care not to step on the ant.

Lanfan sprinted the entire way to the guard's quarters. She would've been proud of her new personal record if she hadn't been so emotionally confused.

Her mother was washing dishes in the kitchen. She wiped her partially-calloused hands on a rag, turning to her daughter.

"What's wrong, dear?" Lanfan froze. Her mother looked so much like her. She suddenly imagined herself, clad in a similar apron, doing chores in the kitchen. Then Ling would come up and wrap his arms around her from behind, teasing her about how she was doing her own chores even though she was the imperial empress. Then things got… exciting.

Lanfan mentally slapped herself yet again. Physically, she put her hand to her cheek, practically feeling the self-imposed stinging.

"Nothing, Mother," she responded automatically. She would often say it out of impulse when she was caught sneaking dessert before dinner, or in her mother's bedroom trying on her jewelry. "I'd just like to be alone."

Lanfan's mother nodded, plunging her hands into the soapy water again. Most in the Yao's guard clan were loners-by-heart, not initiating or continuing conversation unless necessary.

Lanfan strode into the courtyard, warding off her cousins with a piercing glare. She sat next to the fountain, which was laden with dropped kunai.

Before she could get situated, another sharp blade whizzed past her head. She caught it before it could slice through the placid water. It had an all-too familiar tag attached, swooping calligraphy bleeding through the paper. She held the paper up to the light to see the writing.

"Love."

Lanfan turned towards the source of the kunai, the west wall. She felt a discreet disappointment when it was Sou who dropped out of the cherry blossom tree.

"I thought it'd make you feel better," he said, crossing the plaza and plopping down next to her on the bench.

"How did you find me?" She tucked the kunai away, kissing the tag before sliding it into a spare holster around her ankle.

"I could smell your sweet cherry blossom aroma from the other side of town." When he could feel her incredulous stare, he added, "I also sensed your chi. It's out of control right now!"

She shrugged. "I've been having an… odd day."

He nodded, his hair bobbing comically. The tresses had collected a few twigs from the tree, the sun-kissed leaves poking out. Lanfan brushed the foliage away absentmindedly. He reached up, letting his hand touch hers. "I really am trying, you know."

She let her slender hand linger. "Do you think about Ming Na a lot?"

He smiled, but the small gesture was tragic in itself. "All the time. But I'm willing to be with you, if it makes you happy."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I really don't want any of this."

He nodded again, but it wasn't half as comical. "I understand. I cannot be with the one I love, and the one I am with does not love me. This is how you feel, yes?"

She shrugged. "I don't know how I feel."

He grinned, and her spirits brightened immediately. "That's what makes love so fantastic! It makes your stomach twist and writhe, in a good way! You feel confused and happy but also scared and it's absolutely wonderful!"

Lanfan couldn't help but chuckle at her fiancé. Many of the Li elders thought that Sou was unfit to be heir because of his carefree and wistful demeanor, but she loved it.

He paused in his ramblings. placing a hand on Lanfan's shoulder. She shivered. His fingers were so close to the stump where her arm had once been. "You think about him a lot too, the prince."

She quirked an eyebrow in return, even though he could not see it. "I must think about the Young Master. I am his guard."

He laughed. "That's how it starts. I used to think my daydreams of Ming were simply because she was my student and I spent a lot of time with her. But then it escalates. Did you already have a fantasy of your married life?"

She coughed. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

He rolled his unseeing eyes. "Sure you don't." He traipsed over to the sundial near the fountain, squinting a bit. Lanfan wondered how he could possibly read it that way. "Look at the time! I should go, before the servants think I drowned in the bathtub or something. But they're probably just being overprotective. What kind of lunatic would drown in a bathtub!"

Lanfan smiled, smothering a laugh in her long sleeve.

Sou suddenly rushed up to her, brushing his lips across hers. "Just know that love is all you need."

And in a flash of light and smoke, the Li heir was gone.

Ling watched his guard, stone-faced. He was perched on a rooftop, a couple of blocks over from the guard's quarters. The prince suppressed a shout when Lanfan kissed her betrothed. He sighed.

"Well, if she's happy, I shouldn't be a spoiled brat and ruin her love life."

A gust of wind rushed through the village, and in a snap, Ling was gone as well.

Author's Note: I was sort of debating whether or not to have the kunai to come from Sou or Ling... I hope I made the right choice. You guys will find more about the clan competition in the next chapter, so stay tuned, and please review!


	14. With You

Author's Note: This story's going really long, but I hpe the quality doesn't decline. Enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen: With You

Pain. Pure, gnawing pain.

Lanfan thought this as her body writhed, her limbs strapped to the operating table.

"I am truly sorry about this, Miss Lanfan…" Long Zhou muttered as he connected her nerves to the hair-thin wires that sprouted from the automail arm. Each time his tweezers touched the delicate tissue they sent an unpleasantly sharp jolt through Lanfan's body. The herbal numbing remedy he gave her didn't help much, either. She bit on the rag he'd given her, to suppress her screams. She'd never made such a girlish noise in front of her master, and she certainly wasn't going to now, clad waist-up in only bandages.

Lanfan spit out the cloth. "Young Master, please leave," she grinded out through her teeth, which she could feel splinting at the pressure.

Meanwhile, her employer loomed over the table, his face stoic. Even then, she could see a pained look in his eyes. "No. I'm not leaving you, Lanfan." He bit his lip. "I'm so sorry about this…."

"This is my fault…." Her statement couldn't be completed as she cried out. Long Zhou gave her a sympathetic look as fat tears ran down her cheeks, mixing with the blood from her mouth.

Qiaolian had been sent out to be fitted for a new festival dress, so Ling had gripped the stool where she once sat. Why wasn't he strong? He hadn't been strong enough to save Lanfan, and he wasn't strong enough to watch while someone else did it for him. His dark eyes flashed open from their usual narrow demeanor. He staggered over and held Lanfan's flesh hand. She would make him strong.

"I'm staying with you," he said, stroking her sweat-drenched hair.

"No, don't…." She cried out again as Long Zhou poked the wrong tissue.

"I'm with you," Ling said again, smiling reassuringly before everything faded to black.

Long Zhou chuckled heartily. "A little fighter, that girl is. Most don't stay conscious after a few minutes, but she lasted an hour."

Ling began to pace the room. "When will she wake up?"

The mechanic waved a wrench in the air dismissively. "Not for a while. She will remain asleep for a few days, and the recovery lasts a year at the least."

The prince smiled. "She said she'd be up in six months."

Long Zhou nodded sagely. "I don't doubt her. She is strong."

Ling frowned. "I am not."

"If she did not think you were strong, then she would not have almost died in your place, because she believes that you will be a great emperor someday."

He glanced down at her. "Long Zhou, isn't Lanfan beautiful?"

The mechanic waved a pair of pliers this time. "Prince! She is betrothed!"

He sighed. "I know. I hate it." He turned to the elder. "Who else have you operated on, anyway?"

"A prince, Jian Bo. Early in his life, his hand had been burned, left unusable. Being the heir to his clan, he'd gotten it replaced so that he could at least have a chance in the emperor's competition."

Ling paled. He hadn't thought of the competition since that night when he'd gotten beat by Sou. "What is that thing about? No one seems to be letting up on the details."

The mechanic sighed. "It's a big event, taking place in one month's time. The emperor has been deemed terminal by physicians, so he has planned a battle between every heir reigning from the 50 clans. Princesses have been allowed to hire champions to fight in their places, but only a few have taken up the offer. The competition will run for a week, contestants winning by KO-ing opponents."

Ling could imagine his many advisors strategizing in the war room this very instant. "I see."

Then, the realization hit him.

He had to win to be emperor.

It had been decided.

Author's Note: This one's a bit short, I hope you liked it. I'm juggling fanfiction with my guitar study, flute study, and singing, so I might not post in a while. Either way, stay tuned!


	15. The Girl With the Poison Needles

Author's Note: Hope you all had a happy Independence Day! It's a wonderful day to honor the anniversary on which Will Smith punched an alien in the mouth. I'm kind of bored what with my guy friend who I usually text at camp, so I'm ready finish up this fic! Please enjoy.

Chapter Fifteen: The Girl With the Poison Needles

"To all my children, good luck! You have my greatest blessing. Now, let the competition begin!" The emperor clapped his hands, his voice still booming through his illness. Servants assisted his sitting down in the thick imperial garments. A gong was smashed and the two competitors, the 50th and 49th sons, began to do battle.

The competition to be leader of Xing took place in the imperial courtyard, which was large enough to hold a good fraction of the country's population. Ling's father was seated on a magnificent throne, close enough to see the action but far enough away not to get hit with any stray kunai.

To Ling, it seemed as though the week of the emperor's competition had come like a speeding train. One moment he was holding Lanfan's hand in Long Zhou's forge, and the next he was standing in an observation box reserved for the Yao clan, watching as his siblings fought below. Ling didn't like this at all. Family wasn't supposed to fight. The other clans felt the same, all solemn as they sat in their respective stands.

"Do you have a plan, Young Master?" Lanfan had stopped in to check on her employer, but she had to return to the Li Clan box soon. Ling vaguely observed that she had worn her hair in a ponytail, the same way he had styled it early in their journey.

"Not really. But then again, the best plans are made on the fly." He absentmindedly stroked his cutlass, accidently nicking his finger on the blade.

"Young Master!" She half-ran to help him, her legs restricted by her long skirt. Her mother had cleaned out a good portion of their family's funds on courting garb, insisting that it would act as insurance for the conception of an heir. Even the thought of it gave Lanfan shudders. She lightly held Ling's wrist as she accept gauze from a servant, beginning to wind it tightly around his palm.

"Wait," Ling said. He crossed his arms in that childish way he did. "Kiss it."

"Young Master," Lanfan protested, dipping her head. "I am betrothed. Soon, I will have children of my own, so I cannot keep mothering you."

This upset Ling even more than the cries of pain that rang out from the courtyard below as 49 lashed out even as he was being wrestled away from a blood-soaked 50. "Lanfan, are you going to stop working for me after you get married?"

She continued to dress the wound. "Well, the conception of a guard heir is ideal to the function of the Yao clan. Like my mother before me, I will most likely stop working for a great while. One of my cousins will probably protect you."

Ling sighed. "After you have your little heir?"

She bit her lip. "I think it would be best, in your wives' eyes, that after your union to them you would hire a male guard."

He sighed yet again. "All right. You do know best."

The many competitors came and left. May Chan had been escorted back to Xing, and had taken out her adversary with a few alkahestry tricks.

The time passed by Ling like a rush. He had barely time to prepare, when the scorekeeper's voice called out.

"Calling Ling Yao to the courtyard! It is your turn to fight!"

Ling spun his sword, amused by the whirring sound that it created. He couldn't wait to see what spoiled prince he got to defeat.

The scorekeeper, an elegantly dressed woman with a dangerous look in her eye, observed the scoreboard. Each clan's name was taken down on a square of cloth, and those who were eliminated got their name dropped. She traced a slender finger across the silk. "Ming Na to the courtyard!"

Ling swallowed. He'd have to fight his guard's fiancé's student and love. This was _not_ good at all. Plus, he'd have to hit a girl! The hold-upper from Port Town was a crook, so of course he could handle her. But this was a _princess_.

Ming Na was quite beautiful, as Sou had theorized. A pale face and dark hair adorned with colorful ribbons of the brightest reds and sweetest pinks. But Ling couldn't help but laugh, as he dwarfed her by a good foot.

They ceremoniously bowed, and the gong was struck yet again. Ling maneuvered with the hilt of his cutlass facing out, hoping not to have to break skin. Ming tore the hem of her skirt, up to allow for more speed.

"Try and catch me, Idiot Prince." She said, her shoes clapping against the stone like the pitter-pattering of rain. Ling ran just as fast, cornering her.

"I really don't want to hurt you…." Ling approached her, slowly but surely.

"The feeling isn't mutual." She said, pulling the needles out of her hair. "Although the Na men were famous swordsmen, archers and such, the Na women were also known for a lethal art."

She threw the needles, Ling barely dodging. Even then, he could smell the noxious fumes of the poison as they grazed his cheek, fortunately not cutting his face.

Ming pulled the sash from her waist, unfurling it to expose many more needles attached to the scarlet belt. From a strap from her ankle she produced a blowgun. "I've got many more where that came from."

A volley of needles showered over him as he ducked behind a statue of a young child. An empress a while ago had all of her heirs captured in stone, a reason the courtyard was nicknamed The Valley of New Beginnings.

Poison corroded Ling's clothes and stung his hands as they skimmed his fingers. He was grateful that he'd gone with his thick shirt. Then, he realized that Ming had no tactics for close-combat.

The needles had stopped, as Ming waited for her prey. A devious smile played on her red-painted lips. "Come out; come out, wherever you are!"

She let out a shriek of surprise when she found Ling right behind her back. He sighed. "I don't spend _all _my time running from my guards. I actually learn from them."

Ming struck out, her palm crashing into his chin. Toppling back onto the ground, he stared up at the glaring girl.

"Why do you want to be empress?" He asked.

She froze. "It is an honor to represent the Na Clan as leader of Xing."

He shook his head. "That doesn't answer my question. I'm asking why _you_ want to be empress. Is it for the luxury, the elegance?"

She bit her lip, reminding him of his female guard in the stands. "I don't want to be empress, particularly. I'm under so much pressure. Please let me win."

"Little Sister, if you let me win, I promise you, the Na Clan will not fall into irrelevance."

"Pinky promise?"

He laughed. "Pinky promise."

Author's Note: Like it? Love it? Got to have it? Please let me know in the review!


	16. Parting Ways

Author's Note: We're nearing the end here people! I'm hoping to finish this up before school, but I promise to do my best every chapter along the way. Enjoy!

Chapter Sixteen: Parting Ways

Lanfan crept down the hallway, pressing her ear to the door. She was glad to be rid of the fancy clothing for her midnight sneak-out. Meanwhile, Ling stretched out on his bed, snoring and oblivious to her.

All of the remaining contestants had been given sleeping quarters in the imperial palace. The guard didn't quite trust a few of the competitors, and it wasn't uncommon for nobility to be found dead in the morning, and living with possible assassins just increased that chance. Then again, if her mother found Lanfan's bed empty in the middle of the night with no signs of her on the premises, Lanfan would be the murder victim.

"Are the plans set?" A male voice asked.

"Yes, Prince. Tomorrow, you will be the hero, and you will be emperor." This voice was older, probably the chancellor.

"That is very good. And, if the assassins get killed?"

"Please, Prince. Your success is of much more importance. It's what your mother would've wanted. Anyone who interferes will be eliminated. And not just from the competition."

A choking sound was heard on the other end. "Don't talk about her."

"Right. My deepest apologies, Prince. If I may ask, what of the other contestants?"

"All pretty mediocre. Silly little nobles having everything served to them on a silver platter. I had to work. The only ones we might as well watch out for are the Chan girl, Metal Fingers, and Ling, The Idiot Prince."

Lanfan's muscles tensed. Her temper had been on edge since the wedding planning. Fu would've scolded her ignorance when she heard the click of the doorknob.

Whoever was in there was unknown to her, as she sprinted to Ling's room. She shook his shoulder. "Young Master…."

Ling grumbled as her rolled over. "Mother… can't the chancellor wait until noon for diplomacy lessons?"

She shook him harder. "No, Young Master. He can't. Now please wake up!"

He tumbled off the bed. "Lanfan! I wasn't saying anything about a bathtub about to eat me, was I?"

She placed a hand on her hip. "Um… no."

He sighed. "Good, good." He sat back on the bed, yawning. "What's so important that you've snuck out in the middle of the night and come to see me?"

She kneeled. "I was scoping out the palace when I heard a competitor, a prince." She relayed all that she heard.

He stroked an imaginary beard in thought. "It seems as though he's planning to hire assassins to attempt and kill the emperor, but set up an act so that he rescues him. Very interesting. Lanfan, I'd like for you keep an eye on the emperor. It would be ideal that you get to him before the other prince. He's probably got it planned so that the assassins get away, just in case they decide to fess up about him."

She nodded, bowing her head. "Yes, Young Master."

She stood back up, proceeding to the door. She gave him one last hesitant look before closing the door behind her. The prince and his guard had parted ways for the night.

Little did Ling know what his command entailed.

Author's Note: If you're confused about the last line, I'm referring to when the mysterious chancellor had told the equally mysterious prince that the assassins would kill anyone showing signs of interference. Song spotlight for today is "Dance in the Dark" by Lady Gaga. It's a very 70's-esque pop song... about emotional abuse. Still, it's got a good beat. Reviews are fuel for writing and correct grammar and spelling, so give that little review button a poke so the next chapter doesn't detail the adventures of "Lin" and "Ranfun". Although those are variations on the names, "Ranfun" sounds a bit too silly for drama, so reviews are love!


	17. The Four Emperors and the One Prince

Author's Note: Ugh, why do I always forget to add the A/N's AFTER uploading chapters? Anyway, sorry if the story's dragging on, but I''ll try to wrap it up in a few chapters.

Chapter Seventeen: The Four Emperors and the One Prince

For the final battles, Lanfan's mother had insisted on her wearing a nice dress. Lanfan was past arguing, she figured she could go out with a pretty face. If, or when she died, one of the auxiliary branches would hold the heir.

"I am leaving for the arena, Mother," she called, making her way into the family room. Her mother was kneeling on the floor, rifling through a box of items.

"Look, Lanfan," her mother cooed. Lanfan sat with her. Her mother was holding a small china doll, its pristine face grayed with age and its dark hair in shambles. The thing she loved most about the doll was its carnation silk dress. "It's your dear Luli. You used to hold her, brush her hair…."

"I stopped playing with her when Grandfather started training me," Lanfan murmured. The doll's painted red mouth smiled up at her through the grime.

"Yes. I remember you'd never go to sleep without Luli and a bedtime tale."

Lanfan hugged her mother. "I must get going. I will see you this afternoon."

"All right." She continued to go through the items.

"…Mother?"

"Yes?"

Lanfan smiled at her mother, for maybe the last time. "I love you."

Her mother smiled right back, the skin around her eyes crinkling up. "I love you too, Child."

Lanfan left the house, taking a carriage to the imperial palace.

Sou grinned as he gently took her hand. Lanfan didn't get courting at all. It was as if the male had to treat you like you were injured or terminally ill. He shook his bangs out of his face. "Milady. We're early, so we have the stands to ourselves." He gestured to the courtyard. "The reason my family is so welcome in this arena is because we designed the statues for the late empress. With alkahestry, of course."

She smiled. "Very interesting, My Lord." He led her to their observation deck. "Listen, I must tell you something."

He laughed. "Let me guess, there's some imperial conspiracy taking place today, and you must sacrifice your life in order for it to be stopped."

She chuckled awkwardly. "You're such a joker…."

He sat down. "So what is it?"

She sighed. Fumbling under her skirt, she found her kunai holster. She held out the knife he'd thrown into the courtyard that one day. She kissed him on the cheek. "Love is useless if it's never returned."

He took it, running his fingers over it a few times before tucking it into his robes. "Thank you, Lanfan." The two sat in pleasant silence for a while, his hand in hers.

The door burst open, Ling charging in. "Lanfan! I can't find my sword!"

Lanfan rolled her eyes. "Young Master, it's on your back."

He slapped his hand to his forehead. "That's right! Sorry! I'll just go." He inched his way out, giving Lanfan a half-hearted thumbs-up before shutting the door.

She shook her head, smiling ruefully. "Sometimes I can't fathom his whimsy."

Sou returned the smile. "I don't think his visit here was due to any whimsical tendencies. He's probably nervous."

Lanfan bit her lip. "Or lonely."

He patted her hand. "Go."

She grinned, picking up her skirts and heading through the complex winding of hallways, finally finding the Yao room. Most of the officials have gone off to suck-up to other clans, leaving the room empty except for Ling and his advisor, who was too stressed to notice her arrival.

"Hi!" Ling swung down from the ceiling, suspended from one of the support beams.

She bowed. "Young Master." She cursed herself for jumping a little bit in surprise upon Ling's sneaking up on her. Her grandfather was right. She was too soft, too weak. She glanced up at the prince. "I'm not sure how structurally safe that is."

He dropped down from the beam, hitting the ground with a decisive thump. "What brings you around these parts?"

She sat down, smoothing her skirt. "I just wanted to keep you company."

Ling kneaded his temples. "I couldn't sleep at all last night after your little visit."

Lanfan's naturally-arched eyebrows shot up. "I am truly sorry, Young Master."

He waved away her apology. "It's fine. It's just that I've never fought when I was so nervous. I don't know if you've noticed this, but I'm usually very laid back."

She nodded, rolling her eyes. "Amazingly so." She thought back to the previous conversation she had with her mother. "You know, my mother's stories always used to relax me."

Ling barked out a laugh. "You, relaxed? The last time you were relaxed you fell of a cliff!"

Her cheeks burned red with shame. "Anyway, the one story I always adored was the Tale of the Four Emperors. It's nice to fantasize that Xing was once a nation of peace, as opposed to our current state of borderline turmoil."

The prince grinned at his guard. "Do go on, Lanfan."

"In a distant time and place, there were the four emperors. But first, they were the four princes: Huang, Lei, Bojing, and Junjie. All four were powerful, but very watchful over Junjie, the most carefree and seemingly idiotic ruler." She threw Ling a pointed glance, but continued. "Lei was the caring and compassionate one, while Bojing was very strong, yet gentle like the waves he was named for. Huang, like his name, was very princely. He had worked hard for his clan. He was but a child, and he wanted to prove his worth. He was not the only one. Junjie was ridiculed even more than Huang, to the point that he could not cry anymore."

Ling dropped his sword, entranced by Lanfan's story. Never before had she seemed so content and calm, the words flowing from her lips as naturally as water from a stream.

"There were only ten clans then, but all of them wanted to be the main clan, the one whose heir held the throne." Lanfan's eyes were in a far-off place, dulled with nostalgia as she remembered her mother's prose. "Junjie was always my favorite and least favorite character. He may have been a bit simple-minded, but he saw the fine line between right and wrong, between justice for your clan and pure inhumanity. He needed to put the fighting to a stop. He just wanted everyone to be happy. He didn't want to kill his half-brothers, as the clan was pressuring to do.

So he created a solution everyone agreed on. He, Huang, Lei, and Bojing would rule Xing. Four emperors would reign over Xing, and every four years…."

Just then, Ling's chancellor, who they didn't notice leave, burst through the door. "Prince! We must prepare you for the battle!" He glared at Lanfan. "The help should step out."

Ling frowned. "Don't be mean to Lanfan."

Lanfan shook her head, embarrassed by her employer's acknowledgement. "It's okay, Ling. We'll finish the story later. Let's just say, Junjie taught all of Xing something to do with right-and-wrong, and family."

Ling's eyes widened at her usage of his true name, but not to her liking. She thought it would humor him, but instead he looked like she has just screamed at him in fluent Drachman.

She excused herself before the advisor could chastise her informal language. In her haste to get away she crashed into a rather tall individual. He smiled down at her, a scar slashed across his face. It certainly didn't take away from his attractiveness, which brought a blush to Lanfan's face. Lanfan deduced it was from a blade, probably a katana.

"You'd better watch yourself, Miss," he said. She didn't know whether to be flustered or wary by his warning, his voice seemingly familiar.

"I will, er, Prince?" It was easier to identify someone's status in Central, by their uniform, badges, or lack thereof.

He bowed, much to her surprise. "Prince Nianzu Guowei, the 49th son of the emperor." To compensate for her faux-pas, she bowed even lower. She remembered him. He was the one who'd practically slaughtered the 50th contestant. She'd need to keep an eye on this one.

"I am sorry for my misstep, Prince." She bowed again.

He laughed. "It's quite fine. Many people seem to overlook me." His tone was bitter.

She felt awkward in the hallway, being pushed around by bustling workers. Nianzu had no such qualms. The servants seemed to sense his regal presence, never once touching him. "Well, thank you. I must be going now."

Nianzu nodded, turning to go. A very nervous man approached him, his skinny hands quivering like twigs in the wind. "Prince!"

Nianzu's eyes darkened. "You're late."

The man bowed so deep his hat touched the floor. "My apologies, Prince."

Lanfan froze in place._ That's _who she heard the previous night.

That's who was going to attempt to kill-then-save the emperor.

Author's Note: Before you go all picky and say, "Hey! Katanas are Japanese!" Hiromu Arakawa designed Xing to be a hybrid of both China and Japan. That's where the ninjas come from, LOL. Reviews are love!


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